Logs:Fleeting Fearlessness
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| RL Date: 20 December, 2015 |
| Who: Lys, V'ret |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Lys and V'ret share trust for just long enough to make Lys not a virgin. |
| Where: The Women-Watching Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 5, Month 8, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: H'vier/Mentions, Jocelyn/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Sex. Violence and (sexual and other) abuse/assault triggers. |
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>---< The Women-Watching Weyr, High Reaches Weyr >---------------------------< Luckily for the dragon, the inside weyr boasts a couch with a hollow that has conformed to the shape of many bronze bodies over the turns. It progresses in a series of smaller bubbles back into the rock: the first is an evenly round affair, wide open to the outside and with shelves carved along the wall opposite the dragon's wallow to hold sundry draconic items. The second room is a bit cozier, though it manages to squeeze in all the necessities. The entryway is too small for anyone but a human, and closed off with a thick cloth hanging. Inside, there is a small hearth that is swept clean, and room for at least a couch and table, perhaps even a desk: there is an indented nook opposite the hearth that looks as though it might have held one in the past. Separated by another hanging, the next bubble cavern is large enough for a double bed with just enough room to squeeze by into the last, tiny cavern that holds the true prize of this weyr: a coveted bath, large enough for two if they're cozy. -----------------------------< Active Players >----------------------------- Lys F 20 5'5" slender, blonde hair, blue-green eyes 14s V'ret M 20 6'2" fit, brown hair, blue eyes 0s Since the awkward evening at the bar and what followed, work has taken precedence. It might be something of a relief to be facing the end of month assessments and filing the end of month reports. There's things they've done together, but exhaustion is too ready a legitimate excuse for not dealing with things beyond the professional. It might also explain why Lys has fallen asleep in V'ret's bed, waiting for him to return to his weyr. Evyth dropped her off and departed quickly, so the bottle of booze on his table that wasn't there before might be V'ret's first clue that someone's been here, the tended fire a second. The blonde sleeping in his bed with the purple quilt tugged up over her is, of course, a dead giveaway. Zoth is the sort of observant fellow who might have noticed another dragon on His Ledge in either case--but on returning home, his rider at least does seem unaware that he has a visitor. He takes his time dealing with his dragon, taking off his boots. He takes his time, too, staring at the bottle. Then he picks it up, takes a drink straight from it, and wanders into his bedroom. He says nothing. Has another drink. Peels his shirt off, tosses it into a pile of dirty laundry that really ought to be better confined than that, and then sits down on the edge of the bed. The way he's looking at her suggests he's not sure if this is real sleep or feigned. The booze is whiskey, but of fairly good quality, which means Lys must have been given it, or otherwise acquired since weyrlings just don't have that kind of marks to spend, or maybe just maybe she's been saving it for a special occasion. In any case, V'ret's arrival doesn't seem to stir Lys. If it is feigned, it's well-feigned. Certainly, having five roommates tends to make one either an insomniac or a hard sleeper (Lys, the latter). While V'ret might be comfortable just staring at her for awhile, there's patience and then there's patience. He lays down on top of the quilt, but next to her, and propped up on one elbow, reaches over to stroke her hair. "Hey," softly. "Sleepyhead. Don't tell me you've done all of your celebrating the end of the month without me." Once again, plenty of opportunity to be improper, but no attempt to do so. Blue-green eyes flutter open somewhere between the first stroke of her hair and his soft greeting. "Mmm, no," is still-half asleep as she blinks. "Fellaleep waiting for you." The words slur together but her lips curl into a little smile. Lys shifts, pushing the cover back to reveal the red swimsuit that has never before been worn for the benefit of man. "Brought booze," she adds in a mumble on the heels of a yawn. Possibly, she's forgotten what she's wearing, probably she had some of that booze before she fell alseep. "I noticed." About the falling asleep, about the booze, does it matter which? V'ret has probably lost track of what he's even saying, the way his eyes move, the way his hand moves to help pull the quilt away. Like he's unwrapping a gift. He certainly looks pleased. "Look at you. I feel like I must have done a very good job, then." His hand touches her bare side, and he leans in to find a spot between her yawns to kiss her. Because this couldn't be about any more than that, could it? Lys kisses him back, that much is easy. "At wingseconding, yes," she allows, "at boyfriending, not so much. And that might just be because you're not my boyfriend. Or you're not sure you want to be my boyfriend." One of her hands moves to find his on her side, lest he wish to move it away in light of the rest. "But you don't have to be my boyfriend to fuck me." That sounds simple, right? V'ret might have moved his hand; he does at least sit up a bit, withdrawing from what might have been intended to be another kiss, just there. "Yes. Yes, I do. Or at least--" His brain seems to struggle for a moment there to catch up with a rational line of thought for this. There was supposed to be kissing, and now it's veering off into serious conversation, and apparently in this particular moment he isn't proving very competent at doing both at once. "At least I have to be sure if I am or I'm not." Mercifully, after a squeeze to the hand on her side, Lys release him and shifts so she can tug the covers up so things are less distracting even if some part of him will know they're still there, under the blanket. "If you think so, okay," she accepts it, "but I don't." She takes a deep breath, "V'ret," she started quietly, telling him the first of her horrors, the first wound that scarred her soul, expression vulnerable, voice a little tight, repeating something she's said before, "And orphans aren't protected. I was luckier than some." She told him more, of small mercies and more. "I wanted nothing to do with any of this for a long time. A long long time. When I was sixteen, a man tried to assault me. He was drunk and stupid about it, but he helped me get over it. He didn't know it, but he did." There she pauses, looking at him, gauging his reaction, her lips pressed together such is her uncertainty and focus. For a moment when she starts talking, V'ret does look away, eyes on some random point on the wall, on the other side of the room. Deep breaths. But then he settles down next to her again, close this time, putting an arm around her, if over the quilt. "There was a man. There was another man. Do they have names? Do they have..." ...any idea how angry a man can be capable of sounding without raising his voice? He bites it back, anyway. "I don't know if I know how to be good enough to be what you deserve." Lys leans into V'ret's arm. "Of course they do," is quiet. They have names. "The point is that whatever you give me would be better than what anyone else has ever given me. It's-- been so strange for me, that you seem to respect me." Respect isn't something she's used to in her experiences. "H'vier," is said carefully, "helped me by being-- him. It was never safe with H'vier." She shrugs like it doesn't matter even as she admits, more truths that hurt, things she makes sound like not so bad when they're still bad enough to scar her. "You've never hit me, never pushed me to go farther than I feel comfortable. V'ret," is a slow exhale and she's reaching up to cup his face with one hand, thumb stroking his cheek, "You're already better than I deserve and I want you. If-- you can't. I'll--" She exhales hard, "I'll find someone." He doesn't need to worry about her. Doesn't need to do it for her. She probably thinks this assurance is something good she can give him. No obligation to her. Too quiet, through all of this. V'ret should at least be making some kind of reassuring noises, shouldn't he? But at least he tips his head into her touch, at the end. "It is very difficult not to push. I sometimes feel guilty even thinking about..." Something he can't even put words to just now, apparently. But he does shift, pushes the quilt aside to move under it with her. His hands are cool, but relatively quick to warm. "I don't want anybody else to touch you. I want you to be mine. All of you." Lys shifts accommodatingly for him to join her, eyes only leaving his face inasmuch as necessary to get them resituated. She moves, too, in this process, seeking to tangle her legs with his, to snuggle up against his chest. It's easy to thusly feel the way her breath catches at his words. She presses her face against his skin and kisses him there before answering. "You don't have to feel guilty, V'ret. You're even-- I'm okay. You can push, though I don't think you'll have to now, because I do want you." Perhaps she had been a little unsure before. "Will I be enough for you?" "I didn't mean just for sex. Or--just for that kind, anyway." His tone is still somewhat reserved, but the kisses aren't, or the way that V'ret pulls her close and lets his hands more fully explore what she's got on, even if his eyes presently can't. "I can be gentle. It's just hard--" Tiniest of pauses. "Difficult. Sometimes. I don't want to do anything you'll find gross, or unpleasant, or frightening. I want you to be safe." He doesn't want to answer that last question. The slight shifts of Lys' body, the way she kisses him back, it's all encouraging, if subtly. She wore this for him, of course he should explore it. "Do you trust me?" Such a dangerous question, but posed seriously, her eyes opening from the latest kiss to look into his. It must be a dangerous question, for V'ret to be evasive about answering it: "I want to." For all it's a non-answer, though, he says it like it's a meaningful thing. One of his hands slides up her back. "And I want to be worthy of yours." The road to where is paved with good intentions, again? "So start small." With trusting. "Trust that I will tell you if something you do or want to do isn't okay with me for whatever reason," she doesn't list those. Lys is looking at him solemnly, even. "I've had bad things in my life, but I don't think you're one of them, V'ret. The opposite. Trust me that I won't run away," says the chronic runner, "if something scares me or grosses me out or is unpleasant for me." There's a little pause in which her cheeky smile ghosts onto her lips, a shadow of its full strength, but there, "Maybe I'd even like it. Won't know unless we try, right?" His hands, getting acquainted with that bikini, have also been working on figuring out where it fastens; now they're working on actually getting it all undone. "I trust you," V'ret says, possibly just in that more limited way, but at least it's something. "Do you still want me to... fuck you?" He seems to struggle with applying that sort of language to something this momentous, but at least he gets it out. "I think I'm ready now." She accepts those words for what they are, the first three. Lys' lips seek his in the wake of the question, and the kisses are a little softer than what one might associate with those words. "I want you," is just slightly louder than her exhale. She probably doesn't really care what he calls it. They can worry about later, later. Nothing ever goes wrong with that! When it's over, she doesn't rush him to move, doesn't do more than let her hands find his back, to trace her fingers across it (not even just across his scars, but the whole of him). V'ret moves his hands, then, bracing one on the bed and sliding the other beneath her, so that he can press firmly against her without actually resting his full weight on her. He buries his face against her shoulder, just breathes. There are several points where the pace of his breathing suggests he was drawing breath to say something, but the words don't come right away. Then: "I..." Okay, they don't come that time, either. "Oh, Lys." The way he says her name, he might have just reinvented religion. If Lys has been unprepared for what's come before this, she's no more prepared for this moment that's somehow tender. She probably doesn't know what to say so she moves to kiss him, lightly, almost shyly. When their lips part she asks quietly, "Was that okay?" as if the weight of performance were hers. "It was fine," though by tone, one would guess that "fine" was a synonym for "amazing". V'ret is not inclined to move, though eventually he has to, just to switch which elbow his weigh is resting on, and let her lay back on the bed properly again. "It was worth every second of the wait," comes a little closer to the proper level of gratitude. "I was trying to hold out longer. I just... it was too much." Lys seems a little put out by the choice of word, but the tone probably helps her not focus on that (first). She just breathes in those moments before he moves, chewing her lower lip in whatever worry she might have. As he shifts a little, and speaks again, some of that worry seems to ebb a little. "It's okay. I heard a lot of girls don't the first time, sometimes ever," like those imaginary orgasms, "but we-- would you want to do it again? I heard the second time is better. I mean, maybe with a little-- break." Because sore. "A lot of girls aren't you, and their guys aren't me." V'ret seems a little put out, still, by this failure of the experience to live up to the standards of his fantasy--but he's still looking at her like she's the most beautiful thing he's ever laid eyes on, so it can't be too much a problem. He finally pulls himself away from her, to lay down beside her, heavily. "But we can do it again. I mean, I want to do it again. And again, and--maybe twice the first night is enough. The second will be better." "I'm glad you're you," Lys tells him, rolling onto her side to face him, curling just a little, perhaps a little self-conscious, but this time she doesn't move to cover any part of her in particular. "I'm sorry, if it wasn't as good as you wanted. I'll get better," she hopes, she intends, eyes searching his face for something. His hand reaches out, rests against the side of her face, and has V'ret ever looked so heartbroken? "No, pet. No. Sweetheart. I'll get better," he corrects her, as certain as he's ever sounded of anything. "I..." Deep breath. "It'll be better. Nothing to do with you. You're perfect." At least he smiles, there, before letting his eyes close for a few moments. It might be understandable that there's confusion for his heartbreak, for his words. Lys expected to be the problem here, obviously. Then she scoots a little closer, so her body is pressed lightly along his side and she sets to caressing him, lovingly, even. "V'ret, that was-- I'm glad we did that. It was better than I thought it was going to be. So much better than I ever imagined my first time would be. Better than I feel like I deserve. Do you understand that--" words are hard? She searches a moment before articulating carefully, "-you just gave me something wonderful that no one can ever take from me?" And this is without an orgasm, even! "No one," V'ret agrees, a bit distantly, before opening his eyes again and turning his head to look at her again. Every now and then, the way she moves her hand makes him sigh. It's a contented sound. A contented face, now that he's composed himself again. "No one will take you away from me." Sometimes you hear what you want to hear, apparently. Or maybe he just considers that the logical conclusion. Lys stiffens at his words, not a fearful stiffening, but rather awkwardness settling on them. "You want everything?" She says the words carefully, expression unreadable (and thus, obviously, more closed than moments before). A second ago, he sounded so sure. "I want..." Now, V'ret doesn't sound sure at all, furrowing brow as he looks at her, then clearly, consciously choosing to relax, look at the ceiling instead. "I want everything you'll let me have. I know I'm not that good a man. But I'm trying, sweet. I'm trying. If it's too much, forget I said anything." Lys grimaces, which probably isn't the right face to make, but it's accompanied with some measure of explanation, "It's not that, really," she even snuggles a little closer to the man as if that proves it. It's a slow inhale and exhale before she admits, "It's just that someone else wants everything, too. And I'm-- out of my depth." Again. Again. It's probably not something she should be admitting to him, but something about here and this intimacy that allows her to admit it. Since V'ret is already pulling her close when she says it, the admission might make him tense, but it doesn't make him let go of her. Like if he keeps his arms around her, that might ward off the competition or something. "Someone else," he echoes, but he doesn't seem easily able to form something in the way of a coherent sentence about his feelings on the subject. "Lys--I--" "Shh," Lys encourages suddenly leaning into him, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything. It's my-- thing. And I don't want to ruin this. I want you, V'ret." She doesn't say 'only you', but she does press herself against him all the more, burying her face against his neck, placing kisses there, perhaps trying to distract from the fact that she said anything at all. "I want you." Sentences V'ret can manage, apparently, as long as she says them first. But the kisses seem to be sufficiently distracting, or at least he seems able to pretend they are, dropping the subject, making a pleased kind of noise. "Give me a few more minutes for the second, but I'm getting there." The second time is markedly better. 'Thoroughly satisfied' if sore is certainly something that Lys can claim to be by the time they've finished. In fact, it will take next to no time for Lys to just fall asleep snuggled against him. At some point later, she'll wake and move to slip from the bed. It could be that she's leaving, or maybe nature is calling, but after some moments, the sound of water drawing in the bath may be heard by the restless for all Lys' practice at unobtrusively drawing baths in her time working for Irianke. It takes V'ret awhile longer to drift off, but there's no way he's stirring in such a way that he might wake Lys, not just then. He doesn't rouse when she gets out of bed, though at some point he has let go of her and turned so that his face is pretty much buried in his pillow, so that probably helps. The water, though, that's enough to wake him, though at first it's just a mumble and a stretch and another mumble. "...Lys?" There, something coherent. The blonde must be listening for that kind of rousing for it doesn't take long for her to reappear (water still running) and move to sit, still naked, beside him, one hand moving to rub his back in light, soothing strokes. "Sorry, things are drying and--" It's just a murmur from Lys, "Go back to sleep, Ev." "Mm." V'ret stretches, back arching, but into the touch, not away from it. That sound might be more pleased than even the noises he was making during orgasm, earlier. He doesn't seem to bother with rousing more than that, thus reassured. "'mback to bed after," he manages, though most of it is murmured into the pillow. There's a hesitation. Sleepy as he is, maybe he won't catch it. Lys certainly means him not to for she speaks quickly as soon as she's realized it's happening, "Okay," is soft and placating. Then she's gone again to deal with the bath, the soaking and the cleaning. She doesn't return for some time. While V'ret seems to have managed to drift off again; it doesn't last. When he wakes again to find the bed still empty, he crawls out of it--well, nearly falls, apparently his impulse to get out of bed has acted faster than his brain has actually returned control to his legs. He manages to steady himself at the last moment, then wanders bleary-eyed after her. "Everythin' all right?" Sleepy, he doesn't articulate nearly so well as normal. Lys is taken by surprise by V'ret's appearance, her eyes cracking open. She wasn't asleep, but being in this smaller space on her lonesome requires more than a little meditation to allow a sufficient soak. "Yeah," she lies, poorly, "everything's fine. Just thinking. Sorry, was I too loud?" Is that why he woke? She's pretty awake, really. "Too quiet, maybe." V'ret sits down beside the tub, leaning against it, lets his eyes slip closed again, but his voice seems more awake than before. "I was dreaming--I don't remember." Pause. "It was bad." Pause. "Can I stay in here with you?" Like it isn't his own weyr or something. It can't be the most comfortable place to fall back asleep, though, just there. That must tug at Lys' heartstrings enough that whatever else might have been tugging at them loses its hold. "How about I get out and come back to bed with you?" she suggests gently, already moving to get out of the bath. It's possible she won't be able to sleep for a while, but she doesn't seem about to encourage him staying on the floor there when there's a perfectly good bed in the next room. Truth be told, no, V'ret does not actually want to nap on the bathroom floor, so it's not really that hard to get him back up and aimed in the direction of bed, where he has managed to completely tangle the covers just in that little time. Once back properly in bed, it shouldn't take him long at all to drop off again. If properly in bed includes V'ret's head in Lys' lap while she leans back against pillows so she can stroke fingers through his hair, down his neck and across his shoulders, then that's amenable to Lys. Lys, who cannot sleep, so active are her thoughts. She watches him a while as he sleeps, eventually moving to shift so his head is once more on a pillow. There's hesitation again, but she does move soon enough to stretch out beside him, her back pressed against him, rather than some sort of more intimate snuggle, and eventually there's sleep for her too. Evyth's mental alarm clock is too early and far too cheerful so Lys' waking is with a distinct, protesting groan. Zoth must be accustomed to trying to give V'ret every last second of sleep he can, after troubled nights. He himself is long awake but has given very little thought to what's been going on inside, evidently. His rider is only awoken by his bedmate, not by his dragon. Apparently, he's slept well enough that there's none of the late-night bleary-eyed nonsense. He might make some interesting noises as he stretches, but when he reaches for her it's with a surprisingly clear, "Good morning, sunshine." There's a startled sort of sound from Lys at that very-- clear greeting. She, as they've discovered, before, is not a graceful riser. She makes a noise of complaint that is for consciousness on the whole rather than an objection to V'ret himself. "I'm soooooo soooooore." She complains as she shifts, just a little. Imagine how the rest of the day will be. Every wince, groan and held in whimper can be a pat on the back for V'ret. "Are you, now." Yeah, V'ret sounds very intensely pleased with this, although a moment later it seems to occur: "That mean you're not up for again this morning?" Hope springs eternal, and it's not like he hasn't woken perfectly ready to go. But despite that, he doesn't paw at her; he's sitting up and reaching for the bottle from the previous night. High-quality stuff, it's probably wasted on being his morning gargle. The narrowing of Lys' eyes might be for that waste or for the considering, "Do you think I would still be able to run afterward?" At least he's not so silly as to spit it out afterwards, right? Anyway, that'll make the morning so much more bearable. "Able, sure. Comfortably--I guess we should wait." V'ret wanders off into the bath to start running water, though he doesn't really fill it so much as just do the bird-bath thing. No point in cleaning up more thoroughly just to go run. "Before dinner, maybe. Or after." Focus on the happy things, in this moment. By the time he's spoken, Lys has drug herself out of bed and dressed but quickly, in clothes that must have gotten kicked under the bed after she doffed them the night before. Her bikini is over one shoulder and she stops in that bathroom just long enough to splash water on her face. "Yeah, maybe," she offers distractedly. Probably, it's just that she needs to go get changed in her own weyr before they have to report. That's probably all it is... "Lys." V'ret isn't completely oblivious, of course he isn't. But the hand on her shoulder is light, and he's smiling, even if one could read a certain amount of worry into his eyes. "I meant it, last night. Everything you'll have of me." Maybe it's supposed to be a reassurance. Isn't this how this is supposed to go? The first time, the girl is supposed to be the insecure one. He doesn't linger on it, turning instead to go figure out his clothes. Distraction gives way to focus as he touches her, Lys' eyes on his face. "Oh," uh, "Okay," she replies. Maybe she's still waking up? "I'll- I need to-" And finally, "Clothes. Drills. See you in formation?" Of course she will. She won't leave without kissing him, but she's not aiming to linger. The way she exits, it might look an awful lot like running away. "Of course." She will. Where else could V'ret go? But that's all he says, and he even does a halfway decent job at covering up the disappointment. He follows her out, will linger too long about watching her mount and depart, but then he disappears back inside. Too early to get sloppy drunk, sure. But not too early to have enough to be able to make it down for the run and pretend, to everyone else, that nothing at all happened here. A noticeable dent in the bottle, for later. |
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